


All I See Is Colour

by jay_girl88



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Awesome Natasha Romanov, BAMF Phil Coulson, BAMF Tony Stark, Blow Jobs, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Hurt Tony Stark, Jealous Steve Rogers, M/M, Misjudged tony stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Pet Names, Possessive Steve Rogers, Praise Kink, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Phil Coulson, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Slightly asshole Clint, Slightly asshole Steve, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 10:57:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jay_girl88/pseuds/jay_girl88
Summary: "Steve had always loved to watch Tony’s mind at work. It was a thing of wonder, like getting to see the absolute inner workings of something so complex and advanced that you knew you’d never be all the way caught up to it, but could revel in the work of art that it was anyway. And revel he did, especially in those moments when Tony forgot he was there and his hands became a blur of motion as he manipulated diagrams and shot through calculations with a speed that surpassed even JARVIS’.But watching him figure out that Steve was irretrievably in love with him? Not so much awe inspiring as it was completely terrifying. More so than anything else in his life.And Steve had fought goddamn wars."~*~*~*~When Steve lashes out after a misunderstanding, Tony is the one left hurt. Now, a certain super soldier must find a way to apologize, make things right, and then possibly make an epic declaration of love because all this talk of Tony with other people just had to stop. Really.(Based offthis prompton LJ)





	All I See Is Colour

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! Once again, I rushed into a piece because my muse was being demanding, so it's not my best, but I hope everyone still enjoys it! 
> 
> This one is inspired by a [prompt](https://avengerkink.livejournal.com/3266.html?thread=2139074#t2139074) on LiveJournal... if the OP reads this, hope I did your ask justice! 
> 
> Title is taken from the song by Hailee Steinfeld and MNEK.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

In his defense, Steve hadn’t known, hadn’t even had an inkling of knowing, that Tony had been right outside the goddamn door. 

Okay, so it wasn’t a spectacular defense. Fine, maybe it wasn’t even much of a defense at all – sort of like saying _‘Hey, I’m sorry Your Honor, but how the heck was I supposed to know that the man was going to turn the corner at the exact moment I fired my gun? That’s not murder, just a tragedy of happenstance!’_ – but it was pretty much all Steve had. 

He didn’t need to be a genius to know that it wasn’t even close to enough. 

Maybe it would be enough for someone else, but he was… God, he called himself Tony’s best friend. He claimed to love the man. And yet this was how he’d treated him? And why? Just because of some admittedly potent, but apparently unwarranted jealousy? 

Steve wasn’t going to forgive himself. How on earth could he expect Tony to? 

 

###

 

_He couldn’t keep from watching the door, even if he tried._

_It was pathetic, Steve knew that it was, but that was just seemingly where he was at this point in his life. Pining hopelessly after the best friend he could have never anticipated finding and casting longing stares at the door because aforementioned best friend had promised, **promised,** to come home early and spend Steve’s birthday relaxing with the team, exactly as Steve had wanted most, but had yet to arrive. _

_A couple minutes was normal. A half hour was the most they’d ever had to wait on him. But after 90 minutes, Steve was forced to conclude that Tony wasn’t going to show._

_“Sorry, Steve,” Bruce murmured sympathetically, clapping his shoulder softly as he took a seat next to the super soldier. “I guess he must have gotten caught up with something at that interview.”_

_Before he could make any reply, Clint snorted, chipping in with a decidedly bitter edge to his voice. “Cap doesn’t care. Or at least, he shouldn’t. We all know exactly what Stark’s priorities are.” He swigged his drink back, some of the potent Asgardian mead that Thor had brought for them for tonight. Steve thought about rationing the archer, seeing how quickly he was losing his grip on sobriety, but it wasn’t his place to mother his team. That was usually Tony’s job, and well, he wasn’t here, was he? Clint banged his glass on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “Numero uno, from womb to tomb.”_

_An argument bubbled up in Steve’s throat. He knew – on some level, they had all come to know – how much of a ruse Tony’s selfish exterior was. If anything, he was the most selfless of them all sometimes, putting little to no value to his own life when weighing that against his perceived greater good. Surprise, surprise, his and Steve’s perceptions of what the greater good was, was vastly contrasting. However, in that moment, with his heart heavy because he’d wanted nothing more than to spend his birthday with Tony in whatever way he could get him, Steve simply couldn’t bring himself to give voice to it. His mood was far more conducive to wallowing in self-pity over unrequited love and absentee best friends, than playing his usual role on the Tony Stark Defense Squad._

_“That’s not fair.” Bruce, it appeared, had none of Steve’s compunctions. His eyes were flashing, but they weren’t straining green, so Steve made no move to stop the scientist’s rebuttal. “He had to go to that stupid interview, and in case you forgot, he’s only going so that we don’t have to.”_

_That was true, Steve remembered guiltily. This afternoon had been meant to be an Avengers attended interview on some talk show, to sate some of the public’s curiosities, but two days ago had seen them in a battle against some aliens whose species none of them except Thor could pronounce, and the casualties and damages sustained had been almost record-breaking for them. The pubic had been up in arms about it and the backlash they were receiving had been absolutely horrendous. Tony had been handling it all, so Steve only really knew bits and pieces about it, but from what little he and the team had gathered, they hadn’t wanted to expose themselves to the media’s battering by giving out interviews about their daily lives behind the superhero scene, as though nothing had happened._

_Fury, though, had insisted on going through with it, if only so that they didn’t fuel the media fire, so to speak, and wanted just one of them to represent the group. The natural candidate had been Steve himself, mostly because he was still the public’s least picked-on target, but the thought of facing any of that vitriol, and still maintaining his composure and image in a live interview that was guaranteed to make him break out into proverbial hives with anxiety, was enough to make even Captain America defy a direct order._

_In the end, Tony had intercepted what had promised to be a magnificent screaming match between Steve and the Director, by volunteering himself to go instead. He’d smooth-talked Fury into it with confident assertions about how he’d been handling the press over the past few days, and for his entire life for that matter, and soothing practicalities about how an experienced, gentle hand was needed in this sort of a situation. It was a bit like watching a seduction, really, but at the same time, not, because Tony had been neither flirty nor suggestive. He’d simply talked his way into it with such confidence and self-assurance that it had left all of them wondering why they hadn’t just asked the Stark in the first place. It had given Steve a whole new understanding of the phrase ‘silver-tongued’._

_So Bruce was right. Tony had gone this afternoon in order to help them out, in order to help **Steve** out, and it was hardly fair of him to be disappointed about that. Only…_

_“That stupid interview had to have finished already,” Clint countered, and Steve didn’t miss the protective stance that the archer took up next to him, obviously upset on Steve’s behalf. “We all know Stark’s reputation. I bet you dollars to donuts he hooked up with the interviewer, or one of the studio hands, and just decided that he couldn’t be bothered to prioritize anything else over getting laid.”_

_Something ugly and unpleasant twisted Steve’s chest. It took a second to regain his logic long enough to identify it as jealousy, because he couldn’t get past the image in his mind of someone else holding Tony in their arms, making him smile, making him moan, making him lose his mind…_

_An ominous creaking was the only warning Steve had before a crack appeared along the kitchen counter._

_The team graciously didn’t acknowledge his reaction, but Natasha did throw an orange hard enough into Clint’s solar plexus that he stopped talking from the effort it took to take a breath._

_That, more than anything; the display of pity from his team because of his pathetic, one-sided feelings, was enough to bring out the petty, vindictive part of Steve that just wanted to forget his heartbreak._

_Steeling himself against his instinctive rejection of the words, he forced a derisive tone. “Why take a losing bet? The day everything doesn’t revolve around Stark and whatever the hell he wants to do, is the day the world stops turning.”_

_His words were harsh; enough to make his stomach physically ache as though the lies were razor blades tearing up his insides; and were met with shocked silence from the rest of the team. Bruce’s face held deep disappointment along with his disbelief, and Thor looked vaguely uncomfortable, but neither of them spoke._

_Surprisingly, it was Natasha that did._

_“I think I’m in the wrong place,” she said coolly, her chair scraping as she stood up. Her eyes were flat and cold, laser glare aimed at Steve. “I was under the impression that I was here to celebrate with friends, but I don’t really recognize any of you right now.” Obviously exempting Bruce from her statement, from the way she brushed his arm as she walked past, the redhead strode towards the kitchen door. If Steve had to guess, he would say that she was going to the gym or her own quarters, but with the vast amount of space in the tower, the other possibilities were still endless._

_Her footsteps paused at the door, and Steve heard a low sigh escape her lips. He turned around to see the ex-assassin crouch and pick up a big, beautifully wrapped box. Without a word, she crossed the distance between them and shoved the present into his chest. A nauseating feeling assaulted him as he caught it, his chest squeezing tight. The paper was matte black and it was contrasted by a light blue ribbon that ensconced the box in a neat bow, and dangling off the end of the bow was a little label._

_**Happy Birthday, Steve!**  
**Hope this will help leave the shield at the door.**  
**Yours, Tony** _

_Oh, God, he was a complete and utter moron. An idiot. A jerk. Complete scum._

_Where he was at a loss for words, an irate Natasha was decidedly not. “Go ahead,” she told him evenly, but for the anger in her eyes, her tone might have been scathing. “Open it. See what your best friend expended no small amount of time and energy and money on getting for you, only to walk into said best friend character bashing him.”_

_Steve winced. He’d never been on the receiving end of Natasha’s temper before, being that they were generally on great terms as friends, but he should have anticipated it. For some reason, a soft spot existed between the former SHIELD agent and their resident inventor, and for all that they usually ribbed each other, nothing spared anyone from their wrath if another were to say a word against the other._

_On a shaky inhale, he stood, putting the box on his chair so that he could use both hands. He carefully removed the wrapping paper to reveal a plain cardboard box. Steve lifted the lid and the moment he saw what it contained, he felt a memory slam into him with the force of a gut punch._

_Tony asking him what he used to do when the war got too much for him to handle._

_Him mentioning his love of drawing._

_Tony suggesting he take up art as a way to leave his shield at the door and leave his stress on the battlefield._

_And then a night spent on the internet alternating between Steve admiring art, Tony mocking it, and then both of them compiling a list of things that Steve would need if he were to pick up his old hobby again._

_The box held every last one of those things._

_From the ridiculously expensive charcoals and paints and pencils and all manner of other art supplies, to the stack of sketchbooks, everything was there, and Tony had even included a leather satchel and matching leather binder to hold his drawings, both embossed with his initials ‘S.G.R’ in dull gold._

_He held the binder in his hands, numb, fingers lightly tracing the embossed letters as if he were touching the Holy Grail. Part of Steve was screaming at him to run after Tony, to search everywhere the billionaire had a remote chance of being, to apologize until his throat was raw even if Tony didn’t want to hear it…_

_Anything, just so that his best friend would have a chance of hearing him when he said he hadn’t meant it._

_He hadn’t meant it._

_Of course he hadn’t meant it._

_He’d simply been jealous and irrational._

_He loved Tony._

_That was the thought that eventually propelled him into action, and he was almost out of the door in his panicked dash when Coulson appeared in the doorway, halting the super soldier abruptly in his tracks. The SHIELD agent’s eyebrow raised a fraction, which was the Coulson equivalent of a girlish shriek of surprise._

_“Birthday party over so soon?” the man asked mildly. “Stark and I missed practically the whole thing.” A quick scan around him made Phil pause, and with a small amount of caution, he asked, “Speaking of Stark, where is he? Director Fury let him leave before me.”_

_Steve couldn’t make himself form words, so it came as a relief to him when Clint answered. “I think we fucked up, Sir,” he admitted a little hoarsely, sounding as sick to his stomach as Steve felt. “I think we… he… I…”_

_“Sir was en route to the communal kitchen with Captain Rogers’ gift,” a crisp British voice came overhead, sounding unnaturally cold for the AI. Steve knew how protective JARVIS was towards his creator and with a beat of shame, realized that he was the very person the AI was protecting Tony against. “When he stumbled upon a discussion of his character and subsequent slander thereof by Agent Barton and Captain Rogers, he elected not to join the party and instead employed a tactical retreat.”_

_Oh, God. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been a jealous, petty imbecile and Tony was the one paying the price for that. And he’d heard everything; from Clint and from Steve._

_Again, it was Barton who tried to weakly offer up a defense. “I… he was late, I thought… I thought he was gonna be a no-show, and none of us wanted Cap to look so sad on his birthday, but… Tony was the only one who… I just…”_

_“It may interest you to know,” Coulson started, his voice deceptively light and even, but his eyes flashing like Natasha’s had, “that Stark was late because Director Fury detained him to work damage control after the interview incident.”_

_Bruce cleared his throat a little and stepped forward, concern removing most of the ire from his eyes. “Incident?” he echoed questioningly. “What happened? Is Tony alright?”_

_“Perfectly,” Phil nodded amiably. “His knuckles might hurt if he doesn’t ice them, but I think Stark’s punched enough people in the face in his lifetime to value the use of a bag of frozen peas.”_

_Steve started, his desperation coming to a screeching halt as concern and protectiveness flooded him. “Punched someone?” he asked sharply, speaking to the agent for the first time. “Tony punched someone?”_

_It sounded ridiculous even as he said it. Tony was the media golden boy; he oozed charm and spun his words like he was crafting a gossamer shawl; with careful precision and untold grace. In the very rare occasion that he didn’t manage to have the pressing eating out of the palm of his hand and forgetting what they ever wanted to condemn him for, he still always stuck to his words, firm and unyielding tones brokering no argument from the reporters about what lines were meant to be crossed and not._

_Tony Stark simply did not lower himself to impulsive violence. Not in the heart of the public eye, at least. Not anymore._

_“He punched a civilian,” Phil corrected, and something in Steve sunk when he realized how much worse that made everything. “Incidentally, a civilian who accosted him to explain, in very explicit detail, why Captain America was to blame for all the destruction of the battle two days ago.”_

_At first, Steve blanched at the reality of some people blaming him for poor leadership, and subsequently, the way the mission had gone FUBAR. But in the next second, he realized what Coulson was telling him, and… Tony, his unflappable, immovable Tony, had snapped and punched a man in defense of Steve?_

_He really was the lowest of the low._

 

###

 

Now, two days had passed since, and Tony was still on lockdown in his lab. It was the longest that Steve had ever gone not talking or seeing him since they’d become friends and the knowledge tore at him; ached like a slow-acting poison; but the sad truth was that he knew he deserved nothing less. 

JARVIS had been enacting his own special form of revenge as well; refusing to call down elevators for Steve, switching appliances off after Steve switched them on, flicking the lights on and off at random; little things that wouldn’t have been remiss on a child, which was oddly fitting since the AI was sort of like Tony’s son. Some part of the super soldier took comfort in the fact that the AI’s punishments were juvenile. He had no doubt that JARVIS had capabilities far exceeding that of a petulant toddler, and so he knew that the AI wouldn’t hesitate to employ the most ruthless methods in his programming if the true intention was to eradicate Steve. As long as JARVIS had no serious desire to see him burn, Steve had to figure that Tony didn’t have that desire too. 

Or more accurately, he had to hope. 

That hope strengthened a little when Iron Man responded, as prompt and battle-ready as always, when the call to assemble came in the early hours of the morning on day three. Steve felt relief come close to smothering him as Tony approached them where the Quinjet landed, but it was tempered when the genius didn’t raise his faceplate like he normally did. Or send Steve a bright, infectious grin and a snarky comment about how they were late to the party. Or stand next to him in that wordless way that told anyone who cared to look that Tony had Steve’s back, just as Steve had Tony’s. 

Little things, once taken for granted, now missed for their absence. 

When it became clear that Tony wasn’t going to kick off their strategizing with a little light banter to lift their spirits, Steve awkwardly fumbled into the battle plan that he usually delivered with all the steady surety of Captain America. What he hadn’t realized, was just how big a part Iron Man played in keeping him as rock-solid as he was; Tony was the foundation that gave Steve the stability to be the Captain. 

It took considerable effort and time to find his feet on his own, but once he had, Steve forced himself to be the team leader that he was. Within a few moments, the Avengers had established a plan to attack the mysterious blue creatures, whose source was still unidentified, and everyone was dispersing to their position. The lack of any sound from Tony was still jarring, though, not just to Steve, but seemingly to everyone. For a brief moment as he fought, Steve fleetingly thought that he would do just about anything to hear his best friend’s voice.

The thought had no sooner formed in his mind before he regretted it, because in the next second, he felt the cool, unmistakable edge of a blade against the side of his neck. 

He stilled, registering several things at once. One, was that the blade was attached to a staff – sort of like a scepter or scythe – and that it was pressed against his neck hard enough to pierce the very top surface of his skin. Two, was that if he moved an inch in any direction, he was going to be sliced and diced, if not decapitated to some degree. Three, was that the guy holding it (who looked closer to a boy than a man) was probably responsible for the blue things terrorizing the city, most of which had been annihilated by his team already. Then four; and this one was the most horrifying one; was that Tony had his back after all, speaking terms notwithstanding. Because he was lowering to the ground in front of Steve, palms up in a universal sign of surrender. 

His faceplate lifted with a dull _clang_ to reveal a look of cool implacability. To anyone else, he might have looked cold and uncaring, but to someone who knew Tony as well as Steve did? Well, it was easy to see the tension that thinned his mouth. The way a muscle in his cheek jumped from how stiffly he was clenching his jaw. The combination of anger and apprehension that darkened whiskey-coloured eyes into a dark, murky brown. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed right now?” Tony drawled, raising a condescending eyebrow. “Kids need a solid eight hours if they want to function at their best in school.”

A few years earlier, Steve might have been incensed at the disregard Tony was showing in the face of their opponent having any one of them at knifepoint, but now, he saw the minute shift in concentration as keen eyes searched out weak points and possible avenues of attack. 

As intended, their attacker hadn’t. “Make your jokes, Iron Man,” the man-child snarled, and really, if Steve wasn’t close to being skewered, he would have snorted at the thinly veiled fear that the kid was trying to mask with bravado. “It won’t stop me from doing what I need to do!”

“And what is it that you need to do exactly?” Tony asked acerbically, changing position in a way that looked non-threatening, but brought him subtly closer to them. “Turn a national icon into Cap-on-a-cob? Promote equal-opportunity threatening between the youth and senior citizens alike?”

What did it say about Steve, exactly, that he would have taken those insults with a smile if Tony had actually spoken them to him? 

Probably the same thing that was said by the fact that he trusted Tony to keep him safe, enough to start getting distracted while a blade was digging into his neck. That he was stupidly in love with the man. 

The now dubbed Man-Child behind him drew a ragged breath through his teeth. “No,” he choked out, sounding so genuinely wrecked that it actually made Steve feel a little bit of compassion. Until, you know, he remembered the whole part where he was prime target for getting sliced. “I have to finish what he started. I have to honour my father’s legacy and _finish what he started!”_

Steve tensed as Man-Child shrieked the last words and the blade, consequently, dug threateningly deeper. A thin line of warmth tracked down into the collar of his uniform, and Steve couldn’t pretend that it was sweat. For the first time in three days, Tony’s eyes flickered to his, and Steve’s chest seized at the wealth of emotions he saw in them. 

Fear, that Tony was so careful never to show. Anger, that he was so quick to find when someone hurt one of the team. Affection, that Steve loved to see in his absurdly animated orbs. Pain. Regret. Apology. 

And that last one made a lot more sense as Tony stepped out of his armor. 

Steve wanted to snap out an order, wanted to do whatever he could to force Tony back into the protective confines of his suit, but he knew all too well that any sudden movements could kill him and Tony just as easily as whatever harebrained idea the genius had cooked up in the past thirty seconds. If Steve just shut up and stayed still… well, at least one of them would have a chance. 

Tony. At least Tony would have a chance. 

“I know a little something about legacy, you know,” Tony started conversationally, wrenching his eyes away from Steve and fixing them on Man-Child. Behind him, the armor shifted into sentry mode, but their captivated audience, thankfully, didn’t notice. An expression of pain darkened Tony’s face. “My old man, he rode me hard about it all my life. Legacy, the name, the image… it was everything.”

_(Stark men are made of iron.)_

Tony told him that once, when Steve had asked what Howard’s greatest lesson to his son had been. It hadn’t rung quite right, spoken in a hollow tone that hid too much and said too little, and now, Steve wondered whether he should have heard what Tony hadn’t said. 

Unaware of Steve’s blood running colder in his veins, Tony continued to speak. “I did everything he wanted, even when I didn’t want to, because all I wanted was for him to look at me, just once, and actually see me. Me as I was, not just as his goddamn succession plan. He never did, and I never got the chance to try one more time.” As he spoke, Tony inched forward, but for all that the words were meant to be a distraction, Steve knew that there was truth in them. They were too raw not to be. 

Around them, the fighting had stopped, the blue creatures defeated. Steve could spot some of the team in position, ready to take whatever shot opened up as soon as it did. 

“I spent most of my adult life trying to do and be the person he’d meant for me to be,” Tony continued, gaze trained unflinchingly on Man-Child, who was beginning to lessen the pressure of the blade just slightly. Not enough to move, but enough to stop digging into him. “I made decisions that I told myself would make me happy, because it would have made him happy. It took me too long, and too much bloodshed and pain before I realized that I was trying to make a dead man proud of me. A dead man who had never cared about me in life, and probably sure as fuck didn’t care about me in death.”

“Language,” Clint admonished weakly over the comms, and for the first time, Steve remembered that the entire team was probably listening to this. Tony was going to _hate_ it, not least of all because Bruce and Nat were the only ones he was currently on good terms with. 

Predictably, Tony flinched almost imperceptibly, but like he always did, he soldiered on. “Come on, kid,” he encouraged softly, and Steve mused absently on how Tony’s words were as much of a weapon as his suit. “You can learn from everyone else’s mistakes. You’re young, and I know that you don’t actually want to hurt anyone.” He paused a beat, then added, “Sometimes, what’s left behind can grow back better than the generation before it… if given the chance.”

Steve heard it as Man-Child swallowed; sensed his wavering resolution and their imminent win. 

“Who told you that?” the kid asked, and suddenly, his voice was small and so very young. “I mean… is it from a book or something, or just something you learned?”

Suddenly, a smirk broke out over Tony’s face, easy and amused. Though the tension didn’t leave him, his eyes lost some of its hardness, likely sensing their precipice of victory the same as Steve. “Neither,” the genius admitted brazenly. “It’s from Lion King 2.”

A laugh that sounded more like a sob escaped from the kid’s lips, and Tony held up a hand in the general direction of the rest of the team. Steve nodded, almost imperceptibly, supporting the inventor’s unspoken order not to take a shot at the kid. Tony was turning this around, somehow, and as far as he was concerned, if they had a chance to rehabilitate the kid, give him the second chance that not many others got? That was a win in Steve’s book. 

“He never listened,” Man-Child mumbled softly, and the desolation in his voice was enough for the super soldier to circle back to feeling compassionate. “When I said I wanted to be a scientist, that I wanted a different life… nobody ever listened.”

Tony, by this point, had managed to inch his way right in front of them, and a distressingly vulnerable hand slowly slipped between Steve’s neck and the blade. “I’m listening,” he stated simply, gaze locked on the kid’s even as he laboriously urged the scepter away from Steve. “I swear, kid, I’m listening. But you gotta stop this, right now, okay?”

“Okay,” the kid whispered, and all at once, the scepter was lowered and being pressed into Tony’s hands. “Okay, Mr. Stark.”

Tony grinned at the kid, but Steve spotted the mix of emotions swirling in his eyes. “Call me Tony, kid.”

 

###

 

Later – after debriefing was done and promises had been made about filing mission reports on time – Steve trudged up to the roof of the tower. It was a post-mission ritual he and Tony had, whenever they won and none of the team had ended up in medical; they hung out on the roof and relished another battle fought and won, talking about anything and everything just for the comfort of company. 

He didn’t think Tony would be there today, but he still hoped. 

And was rewarded when, against the backdrop of the rising sun painting the Manhattan skyline a soft orange, he spotted Tony.

Against all reason, he didn’t feel any of the hesitation he’d anticipated feeling. Instead, Steve was drawn almost magnetically to where Tony was, standing alongside him close enough to let their arms brush. 

And taking it as a win when his genius didn’t tense or move away. 

The super soldier geared himself up for an apology, but then… “Why did you get out of the suit?” The words, though not at all what he’d intended to say, were at least spoken with soft curiosity instead of hard accusation. 

“Couldn’t let him hurt you,” Tony answered without preamble, as if the words came easy as breathing to him. Steve flicked his gaze from the sky to Tony, but his companion pointedly kept his eyes facing forward. “The only way to get him away from you was to get him to listen, and the only way he would listen to me was if he thought I was harmless.” 

Without thinking about it, Steve shook his head. “You’re never harmless,” he refuted, thinking of how strong and resourceful the genius was. “Not really.”

“You and I know that,” Tony allowed, tilting his head as if to concede the point. “The kid didn’t.”

Steve didn’t need to ask, to know that his best friend had had backup plans to backup plans this morning. If the talking hadn’t worked, he had no doubt that Tony would have thought of something else to make sure that Steve walked out of the battle alive. That was just who Tony was; always thinking, always solving, always ten steps ahead. Twenty. Thirty. 

In a moment of courage, probably brought on by their solitude and the bubble that always wrapped around him when he was alone with Tony, Steve managed to ask, “What I really meant was, why did you get out of the suit _for me_? Why did you put yourself in danger for me? Even after what I did?” 

“Really?” Tony’s eyes snapped to Steve’s, and the fire in them was his first clue that he’d put his foot in his mouth again. “If you’re asking me that, you must really have as low an opinion of me as I thought.”

He turned on his heel and started to walk away, and reflexively, Steve reached out and caught his wrist. Gently pulled Tony back against his chest and wrapped his arms around the smaller man to keep him trapped there. 

Burying his face helplessly in Tony’s neck, he mumbled, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m not saying this right. I don’t know how to say it right.” 

Miraculously, the clumsy words were enough to make the genius relax in his arms. Tony even leaned back against him for a few glorious moments, allowing Steve to surreptitiously brush his lips across the nape of his neck in the guise of raising his head. 

“What are you trying to say, then, Steve?” Tony asked, and all the argumentativeness was lost from his voice. He sounded weary, instead, like he was tired of Steve saying things he didn’t want to hear. 

Because it was easier to talk like this, Steve kept the other man in his arms. “I’m sorry,” he repeated in a low murmur, his eyes falling shut as he fairly nuzzled Tony’s temple. It was like he couldn’t help himself, now that he was close enough to touch, now that he _was touching_. “I’m so sorry, Tony. I’m so sorry for what I said. You have to know that I didn’t mean a single word of it.”

“I’ve known you for years, Steven,” Tony replied sardonically, but the habitual use of his full name was something that Tony had always done with fondness, so Steve hoped it was a sign of impending forgiveness. “You don’t say things you don’t mean.”

And there was just a hint of real insecurity, of real pain, in Tony’s voice as he spoke, but it was enough to run Steve through like a joust. All at once, it didn’t matter where the chips would fall in the wake of his truthfulness; all that mattered was that Tony understand that the issue was Steve’s and not his. 

So, without letting himself think long enough to back down, Steve blurted out, “I do when I’m half out of my mind with jealousy.”

Tony froze a little before turning in his arms. He didn’t make any move to leave Steve’s embrace, though, so the super soldier happily held on. 

“Jealousy?” Tony echoed disbelievingly. “Jealous of what?”

Red crept up Steve’s cheeks, but he forced himself to answer. “Whoever you were with that wasn’t me.”

Steve had always loved to watch Tony’s mind at work. It was a thing of wonder, like getting to see the absolute inner workings of something so complex and advanced that you knew you’d never be all the way caught up to it, but could revel in the work of art that it was anyway. And revel he did, especially in those moments when Tony forgot he was there and his hands became a blur of motion as he manipulated diagrams and shot through calculations with a speed that surpassed even JARVIS’.

But watching him figure out that Steve was irretrievably in love with him? Not so much awe inspiring as it was completely terrifying. More so than anything else in his life.

And Steve had fought goddamn wars. 

He wasn’t sure who was holding on to who at this point, because when uncertainty had finally sunk its merciless claws into him, he’d begun to loosen his grip, but they were still in the same position so Tony had to have clung back at some stage. A quick internal inspection told him that Tony’s hands had, at some point, found his arms, but all he really knew was that he was looking into the amber-colored eyes he loved so much… and Tony wasn’t looking away.

“You were jealous… because you wanted me at home?” Tony asked eventually, slowly, like he was clarifying. 

Some deeply rooted instinct in Steve told him that there was something more to the question; something underlying; something that would either send him down the path of no return or steer them back to safe and familiar territory. The former option would open him up to the risk and uncertainty of unchartered waters, but the latter… the latter would close the door on something that he could no longer deny he wanted, with every fiber of his being. 

It all depended on how he answered that question. 

He thought that the pressure would have flustered him, but like everything with Tony, it somehow all fell right into place. “I was jealous because I wanted you with me,” he corrected, the words falling off his tongue like there was simply no other answer. “Wherever we were, I didn’t care, I just wanted you with me.” After a beat, he added lowly, “I always want you with me. Nobody else. Just me. Just you and me.”

Apparently, it was the right thing to say, because in the next second, Tony was kissing him. 

It was like every dream he’d ever had, coming true all at the same time. His veins turned to liquid fire and desire went from a low simmer in his belly; like it always was around Tony; to a blaze that raged all the way up his chest. His arms went around Tony’s waist, yanking him so close against Steve that he could feel every inch of their bodies pressed together, and he swallowed every little gasp and hitching sound that fell from the other man’s lips. 

“Steve.” Tony’s voice was wrecked as he stumbled out Steve’s name, pulling back, but the super soldier chased his mouth insistently. With another little groan of acquiescence, Tony kissed him back, moaning prettily when Steve turned them both around and pressed him against the railing, slipping his thigh snugly between Tony’s legs. “Jesus, Steve,” he whined, breaking the kiss as his head fell back when Steve rocked gently against him. Heady pleasure fogged the super soldier’s head but Steve had enough presence of mind to seize the opportunity to latch his lips on to Tony’s exposed throat, biting and suckling until he was sure a nice, noticeable mark would form. “Fuck, oh _Christ_ …”

Steve loved that he had the ability to render this silver-tongued man almost speechless, but what he loved even more, was hearing Tony moan his name. He’d only had about thirty dozen fantasies imagining just what it would sound like, just what it would feel like, and now that he had it right in front of him, Steve realized that his mind could have never done it justice. 

Pressing his thigh against the bulge in the front of Tony’s pants, Steve found some relief of his own as his aching cock pressed against Tony’s hip. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for right then. “Want you, Tony,” he confessed mindlessly, his voice rough and deep. “Can I touch you, sweetheart? Will you let me? Please let me, doll.” As if to supplement his plea, Steve mouthed a trail from the spot behind Tony’s ear, across his jaw and then down his throat, ending by tracing the hollow at the bottom of the other man’s throat with his tongue. 

“Yes,” Tony gasped out lowly, rocking against him and holding on to Steve like it would kill him to let go. “Yes, Steve, _please_ , God…” 

The sound of his name falling from Tony’s lips like a prayer, combined with how receptive the other man was, told Steve that he wouldn’t last long enough to be inside Tony. Not this first time. It was, of course, a disappointment of sorts, but in other ways, the romantic side of himself for example, Steve reasoned that it was good. Their first time together shouldn’t be like this, in the wake of an argument with emotions running high and Steve not even having taken Tony on a proper date yet. 

No. He would do that part right, treat Tony the way he deserved. 

For now, he spun his lover around, bringing Tony back against his chest with a strong arm around his waist. Instinctively, he ground against the other man’s ass, unable to keep himself from indulging a little, only to find that there was a unique sort of torture in pressing up against Tony’s perfect ass with the full knowledge that he wasn’t going to get to be inside him just yet. 

On the other hand, a little rutting was probably all he would need to get off as long as Tony kept making all those pretty noises just for him. 

Leaning down to suck another mark into Tony’s neck, Steve used the opportunity of distraction to slip his hand into Tony’s pants, thankful that the man had changed from his undersuit into a pair of sweats. Immediately, the inventor let out a strangled sound and his hips jerked forward, but Steve was strong enough to pin Tony’s hips back against his with nothing more than a large, insistent hand. “So responsive for me, my darling,” he praised softly, nipping the soft skin of Tony’s throat just to hear him gasp again, all while rubbing the front of Tony’s boxers. “You’re so hot like this, all wrapped up in my arms, letting me touch you…” Steve flicked his tongue out to trace the shell of Tony’s ear, enjoying the shiver it produced. “My pretty, sweet thing.” He punctuated the words with another roll of his hips, biting back a groan when Tony pushed his ass back against him. 

“God, Steve, please…” Tony mumbled mindlessly, head falling back to rest on Steve’s shoulder as the super soldier busied himself sucking another mark into the inventor’s skin. “I… I need…”

“Shh, sweetheart, I got you,” Steve rumbled soothingly, soft adoration taking the place of mindless desire for a brief second as Tony relaxed pliantly against him at the reassurance, all wonderfully trusting and willing. Raw need burnt it away again as Steve finally moved his hand underneath Tony’s boxers and gripped his hard length in his hand. He all but purred as Tony cried out with the contact, hips stuttering, trying to follow the movement as Steve languidly stroked him. “Feel good, darlin’?” he husked softly. “This what’cha need? Need my hand on ya?” As he spoke, he increased the speed of his stroking incrementally, and pressed sporadic kisses to whatever skin he could reach. 

“Steve… Steve, stop, I’m gonna… I can’t…” Tony whined softly, so out of it with desire that Steve had to reward him with a slight twist on the next upstroke. It made another stunning sound break free from the inventor and Steve watched, captivated, as Tony’s face creased in pleasure, bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

The super soldier kissed his lover sloppily, skating his tongue soothingly across that abused bottom lip before he pulled away. “S’okay, sweetheart,” he coaxed, “let go for me. I wanna see you lose it, I wanna watch you come for me.”

Tony shuddered at the encouragement, and it only took another couple strokes before the inventor was spilling all over Steve’s hand. His face, and that breathy little mewl of Steve’s name as Tony exploded, was by far the hottest thing the super soldier had seen in his lifetime. It would have been enough for him, too, but Steve learned quickly that it wasn’t in Tony’s nature not to reciprocate, as the man turned in his arms, kissed him deeply, and then proceeded to slide to his knees right then and there. 

Before he could offer up any protest or reassure Tony that he didn’t need to do this, the man had his pants and boxers around his knees and was taking him down in one swallow. Steve made an inhuman sound at the back of his throat, snapping his hips forward instinctively and then apologizing profusely when it made Tony rear back slightly. 

“Easy, Steve,” the genius murmured, one hand petting the outside of his thigh soothingly while the other rubbed absently at the pre-come that had inadvertently gotten streaked across Tony’s cheek. God fucking damnit, that was so sexy… “Let me take care of you,” he cajoled lowly, eyes sparkling with mischief but somehow simultaneously soft. 

Steve nodded wordlessly, not trusting his voice as his senses exploded all over again with the hazy rush that came from having the man he loved in this position. Slower this time, as if Steve was the one who needed to adjust, Tony slid his mouth down his length, bobbing his head a little to take more and more until finally, he hit the back of the inventor’s throat. A strangled noise that Steve would deny ever making slipped from his lips and pleasure buzzed like live wires in his blood. 

Without much conscious thought, he found himself speaking. “So beautiful, sweetheart… you look so beautiful like that, on your knees for me, wrapped around my cock. You’re so good for me, baby, can’t believe you’re doing this for me. My perfect babydoll.” 

Tony moaned around him and the vibrations made Steve growl involuntarily and rock deeper into the inventor’s mouth. He was careful this time, so Tony stayed around him, and with another few deep breaths and a dose of persistence, the other man’s mouth was finally stretched taut around Steve’s cock. Tony kept his mouth there, entrapping his whole dick in that wet, warm, perfect cavern, just for a few seconds, before pulling away and settling into another rhythm, suckling the sensitive head of Steve’s cock while stroking what wasn’t in his mouth with his hands. There was a delicious contrast between the slight callouses of Tony’s hands and the perfectly smooth, warm suction of his mouth, and it wasn’t much longer until Steve exploded too. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned, half-resigned, half-euphoric as Tony swallowed his load down without hesitation. It was way hotter than it had any right being and Steve felt his softened member twitch in interest. “You’re gonna be the first person to kill a super soldier just by virtue of how ridiculously amazing you are.” His lover smirked, swollen, slick lips somehow adding to the sexiness rather than detracting from it, and rose gracefully to his feet while Steve got himself semi-decent, pulling his pants and underwear back up and almost wincing when the fabric rubbed across his sensitive member. 

As soon as he was put at least partway to rights, Steve wasted no time crowding Tony against the railing and kissing him. It was softer this time, almost lazy, like a slow-burn of desire rather than the inferno they’d just had. Because he could, Steve lifted his lover into his arms, waiting for the smaller man to wrap his legs around his waist cooperatively before claiming his lips again. He licked in as deep as he could, plucking the taste of himself from the inventor’s tongue and growling at how inherently right it felt that Tony tasted like him. Smelled like him, even. 

_Should always be like that,_ his hind brain purred possessively. _He should always have my mark on him so everyone knows he’s mine. Just mine._

As tempting as it was to give voice to that thought, Steve knew it would have to wait. A proper apology was still in order; or rather, the confirmation of Tony’s acceptance of his apology, Steve didn’t want to just assume; and he still had to take the man on a real date. He had to _make_ Tony his. 

Pulling back with the purpose of declaring his intentions, Steve instead found his voice caught in his throat as he looked at his love.

How was it possible for a man to look so achingly beautiful? The sun cresting over the city was a miracle in itself, and yet it paled in comparison to the soft smile that quirked full lips. The sky was lightened with the promise of day, but it was shadowed by the sparkle in honeysuckle eyes that lit Steve up from the inside out. Manhattan’s most impressive high-rises were as stunning as Lego towers when pitted against the sharp cut of Tony’s jaw, or the graceful arch of his neck, or the deceptively lean but powerful set of his shoulders. 

For the first time since his birthday; since that disastrous moment when he’d opened Tony’s gift and realized just how badly he’d screwed up; Steve felt like drawing. Because this man in front of him, this man who’d allowed him to love him, was the greatest type of muse that the super soldier had ever had; or would ever have, if his gut instinct was correct. His beauty was something that shone all the way through, and Steve was sure that if he just had the chance to look his fill, he would see all the most magnificent beauties that the world could ever hope to offer him. 

It was like his transformation all over again, and going from living in a reality of black and white, to suddenly being able to see all the colours in the world. 

His fingers itched to use Tony’s gift, to capture the face he loved so much on canvas, in charcoal, in paint, in pencil, in anything and everything. 

But first… 

Tony smiled against his lips as Steve wordlessly kissed him again. Because, well, _priorities._

 

###

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I might continue this fic in order to include all the apologies from the other Avengers, and possibly more Stony fluff and smut, but for now, it's marked complete. 
> 
> Hope it was enjoyed! 
> 
> -J <3


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